


fly trap

by melodrama (knightspur)



Category: C-Pop, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: (but not for real), Canon Compliant, Come Eating, Date Night, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand & Finger Kink, Infidelity, Kink Negotiation, Life Partnership, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Sexual Roleplay, Size Kink, Wang Yibo : Twink, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/melodrama
Summary: “Are you trying to propose to me, Zhan-ge?” Yibo asks, lifting his eyebrows. Xiao Zhan laughs, the sound slightly wheezing.“At dinner…” He runs his thumb over the ring, biting down on his lip. “It was cute. You were acting like Yixing’s trophy husband.”His voice probably isn’t as light as he means it to be. It’s too rough around the edges for a joke. Still, the description makes Yibo stick his lower lip out in a frown.“I wouldn’t have if you weren’t ignoring me,” he says.“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He cups his hand around Yibo’s chin, their lips hovering close together again. “I was watching.”
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Comments: 27
Kudos: 483





	fly trap

Yibo’s schedule doesn’t regularly intersect with Xiao Zhan’s. This is the cost of any relationship with another celebrity. Yibo can hardly find the time to see anyone _else_ in the industry when he’s lonely and in need of company. The universe makes it harder because Xiao Zhan is his boyfriend and Yibo covets time with him more than anyone else. 

They cross paths in Beijing. The weather is shitty and Yibo only has the evening to spare. He’s still determined to make the best of it and when Xiao Zhan asks if he’d like to go to dinner at an upscale place neither of them will feel quite at home in, Yibo accepts embarrassingly quickly. It’s always tempting to sulk when they don’t have the time together he’d like. Especially after the long hours on set, always wrapped in each other’s company. But pouting keeps him from really _enjoying_ his time with Xiao Zhan. It can’t be helped, anyway. Yibo doesn’t have any more time for Xiao Zhan than Xiao Zhan has for him.

It’s with this in mind that Yibo takes a long shower, letting the hot water beat on his skin, turning it pink. He stays in the glass stall after turning the water off, one arm braced against the tiled wall, heels spread apart. His teeth sink into his lower lip, pushing two fingers past his rim. He’s drenched a wasteful amount of lube over his palm, leaking off his fingers and down the crease of his thigh. This was meant to be a quick, careless prep. Just enough that he can convince Xiao Zhan to skip straight to fucking him.

But Yibo always gets carried away, even when he’s only by himself. He winds up with his teeth set around the inside of his wrist, groaning around a mouthful of wet skin, twisting his wrist to push the pads of three fingers against just the right spot— 

His phone, in the other room, chimes with a notification. Yibo drops his head forward with a groan, hair in dripping waves around his face. The insides of his thighs are slick and stuck together, his cock curved up against his belly and red at the tip. But there’s no time left to deal with any of that— not if he wants to be on time for the reservation that Xiao Zhan so thoughtfully set up for him. Even if it’s a delay to what he wants at the moment.

He drags himself out of the shower, towels off and puts on the best outfit he can put together from his current luggage. A Gucci suit jacket he wore on one red carpet or another and a silky shirt that’s cool and smooth against his heated skin. By the time he’s finished with his belt, his cock has mercifully softened, though heat still burns low in his stomach. Embers, waiting to catch flame again.  


* * *

  
The ride to the restaurant is stiff and quiet. Yibo sits in the furthest corner of the car with a mask covering his face, staring at the screen of his phone. His driver hasn’t asked a single question since he climbed in the backseat and gave an address.

Usually, this is what Yibo prefers. He doesn’t want to share the details of where he’s going and who he’s going to see. But tonight, other than the low purr of jazz and the warm air jetting from the vents, there’s nothing to distract him. He’s alone in the back with Xiao Zhan’s Weibo account open, studying the details of his pictures with the corner of his lip stuck between his teeth.

It’ll be good to see him again. To touch him again. Yibo misses everything tactile about Xiao Zhan; the way he smells after a shower, how he drags his hand up and down Yibo’s thigh when they’re sitting, the way his face lights when he laughs. Yibo tucks one hand between his legs, squeezing the inside of his thigh and trying to keep himself focused on the present. 

Meeting with Xiao Zhan in public can be a struggle. Yibo would love nothing more than to make a scene.

He’s a few minutes early thanks to a gap in the city’s usual traffic. Yibo takes one of the plush seats in the foyer, staring at the glittering chandelier. He wonders what made Xiao Zhan pick this place to eat at, out of all of them. Is there a special occasion he’s forgotten about?

“Yibo.” The voice, as familiar as it is, does not belong to Xiao Zhan. Yixing looks far more at home in a place like this than Yibo feels— hair styled exactly right, the top two buttons of his crimson shirt left undone to expose a pale triangle of his chest.

“Yixing-ge,” Yibo says, a small smile on his face. “It’s a surprise to see you here.”

“I could say the same of you,” he says, taking a seat next to Yibo. He leans one shoulder back against the wall, turned slightly toward Yibo, legs stretched out ahead of him. “Business engagement tonight?”

“No,” Yibo says, keeping his voice low. “Zhan-ge invited me to eat with him tonight. I’m a little early.”

If Yixing thinks there’s anything strange to that, he doesn’t say so. 

“You don’t mind if I wait with you?” Yixing asks. Yibo shakes his head. It’s always a little intimidating to be alone with Yixing, no matter how friendly he is. He has an unattainable air. Yibo feels like he has nothing to say that won’t seem foolish.

They do manage to fall into conversation. Yixing isn’t one for gossip but he loves to talk about work. By the time Xiao Zhan arrives, they have their heads bent close together, the tips of Yixing’s fingers on the cap of Yibo’s knee. The touch is so light, Yibo probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all if he weren’t already so keyed up from earlier.

There are flakes of snow clinging to Xiao Zhan’s dark hair when he walks in, but that isn’t the first thing that Yibo notices. The first thing Yibo notices when he sees Xiao Zhan is the corners of his mouth, turned up slightly into a smile.

If they were alone, Yibo would gladly throw his arms around Xiao Zhan and do his best to wheedle a kiss, one or a dozen, from him. Now, he stays in his seat, tipping his chin toward Xiao Zhan with a smile. He looks pleased to see Yibo, surprised to see Yixing sitting next to him.

It’s only when Yibo shifts that Yixing’s hand falls away from his knee, palm surprisingly warm through his slacks.

“I kept you waiting,” Xiao Zhan, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. The weather…” He gestures back at the door and sighs. Yibo shakes his head.

“It’s only been a minute.” He shakes his head. “I had Yixing-ge keep me company.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Xiao Zhan says, dropping his hands, breaking out in a smile for real. “Have you eaten?”

“I had a business associate cancel on me,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t think it would be good to take up a table myself.”

“Join us,” Xiao Zhan says, the offer leaving his mouth without a thought. Yibo’s hand curls into a fist in his lap. It’s only polite to offer, of course. From the outside, they’re only meeting as friends and it would be rude to send Yixing on his way.

He’s still ruining a perfectly good date. The first one Yibo has had in weeks. His expression doesn’t change but Yixing shakes his head and taps the inside of Yibo’s wrist, in the same spot Yibo bit a dark ring of teeth in the shower.

“I don’t want to intrude on the evening,” he says, glancing at Yibo with a kind smile. “If neither of you mind…”

“Stay,” Yibo says. As selfish as he’d like to be when it comes to Xiao Zhan, he’ll have his chance later. It’s better to be kind now since the universe has something against him already. “The food should be good.”

Xiao Zhan seems a little relieved. Yixing’s hand leaves Yibo’s wrist when he stands. It’s then that Xiao Zhan notices the red-stitched lines along the inside of his wrist, freshly imprinted in the skin. Something jumps across his face— a fleeting narrowing of the eyes— but it disappears before Yibo can place what the look is.  


* * *

  
It’s a nice meal. The food is good and together Xiao Zhan and Yixing make excellent company. Everything past the appetizer course is a severe test of Yibo’s endurance. Someone— not Yibo— orders a bottle of dry red wine and by the bottom of his third glass, Yibo wants to crawl under the table and shove his face between Xiao Zhan’s thighs.

It doesn’t help that the more wine he drinks, the more Yixing touches Yibo in friendly, fleeting ways. He holds Yibo’s shoulder when he laughs, toys with Yibo’s hand when his attention wanders off. Between the two of them, he probably looks like a sullen younger brother— picking at his food, slow to answer questions. The more distracted he is, the more attention Yixing devotes to him.

Worse, Xiao Zhan keeps his hands _entirely_ to himself, seated a respectable distance away. His eyes are stuck to Yibo though. He catches Xiao Zhan staring several times with a round-edged hunger that makes a shiver shoot down his spine.

He has the address of Xiao Zhan’s hotel already, even if they don’t leave here together. Yibo wants to be invited, still. He can picture the hot press of Xiao Zhan’s hand on his back, under his jacket but over his shirt, and the low murmur of his voice. 

Under the table, Yibo crosses his legs and prays that Yixing doesn’t order dessert. He’s not going to make it through another course.

He’s saved by a phone call that pulls Yixing away from the table, dragging his coat along behind him and mumbling apologies. Yibo wants to launch himself across the table and rip Xiao Zhan’s jacket off of him.

“Are you finished?” He asks, trying to banish any sullen tone from his voice. It will only make Xiao Zhan tease him— he agreed to have Yixing join them, after all.

“Didi.” Xiao Zhan smooths a hand down his arm, fingers curling around the inside of his wrist. “You’re not getting up early, are you?”

Yibo shoots him a sour look in exchange for his concern. “I’ll get the hotel to let me in.”

The threat only makes Xiao Zhan beam at him. “I’m only asking so I can get you a ride in the morning.” He laughs, lacing his fingers through Yibo’s and giving his hand a brief squeeze.

“I’m not leaving tomorrow,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile against his will. “Are you?”

Xiao Zhan shakes his head. He releases Yibo’s hand only to push his chair back from the table and stand. “I can give you a ride.”

This is the way Xiao Zhan usually offers to take him back to his room. Polite. Deniable. Yibo nods, tucking his hands in his pockets and jabbing his elbow into Xiao Zhan’s ribs.

“Hurry up, old man,” he says, grumbling. Xiao Zhan laughs, shaking Yibo’s shoulder in return.  


* * *

  
In the dark backseat of the car, Xiao Zhan slips a ring off his index finger; silver and onyx, probably something he takes out for nice places. He slips it onto Yibo’s ring finger, staring at his hand.

Xiao Zhan doesn’t say a word about it. Yibo doesn’t know what questions to ask.  


* * *

  
The elevator ride up to Xiao Zhan’s room is so tense that Yibo wants to start screaming by the third floor. There is a sparse, electric distance between their bodies and he’s desperate to close it as soon as possible.

He pushes up against Xiao Zhan’s back while he punches the code into the door, mouth against the nape of his neck, hands under his suit jacket.

“Gege.” He keeps his voice low. That doesn’t mask how rough it is. “God. I can’t keep waiting like this.”

He can feel Xiao Zhan shudder and that only encourages him, fingers spread over his ribcage. He wants to bite Xiao Zhan’s neck and inspire him to _move_ but there’s still too great a chance of being seen in the middle of it.

The door clicks open and Xiao Zhan sighs in palpable relief, pulling him inside and pushing the door shut behind them.

“Yibo.” He takes Yibo’s hand— the one he slipped the ring on, the one Yibo bit in the shower. The mark on the inside is beginning to fade but the red lines are still there, the edged blurred. Backed into the wall and caged in by Xiao Zhan’s body, Yibo surrenders his hand to Xiao Zhan’s grasp, tongue dragging over his lips. 

He studies the bruise, pulling Yibo’s sleeve out of the way to get a better look at it. Yibo could explain, of course. He could tell Xiao Zhan exactly how he gave it to himself, what he was doing, and delight in his response. But something stops him— the way Xiao Zhan looked when Yixing touched him in the same spot.

Yibo tips his head back, angling his chin for a kiss. Xiao Zhan gives in, ducking his head and kissing Yibo, long and slow. When he pulls away, his eyes fall on Yibo’s hand again.

“Are you trying to propose to me, Zhan-ge?” Yibo asks, lifting his eyebrows. Xiao Zhan laughs, the sound slightly wheezing.

“At dinner…” He runs his thumb over the ring, biting down on his lip. “It was cute. You were acting like Yiging’s trophy husband.”

His voice probably isn’t as light as he means it to be. It’s too rough around the edges for a joke. Still, the description makes Yibo stick his lower lip out in a frown.

“I wouldn’t have if you weren’t ignoring me,” he says.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He cups his hand around Yibo’s chin, their lips hovering close together again. “I was watching.” Yibo knew that already but the reminder makes his throat bob with a hard swallow. He can feel the weight of Xiao Zhan’s ring around his finger. Xiao Zhan lowers his voice further. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

At some point, Yibo must become immune to Xiao Zhan’s ability to make his heart jump uncontrollably in his chest. He pushes his hips forward, dragging one of Xiao Zhan’s hands down to his ass.

“Even if he was, I still came back with you,” Yibo says, picking open the buttons at Xiao Zhan’s throat open with trembling fingers. “That’s what matters, right? I came over here because I want Zhan-ge to fuck me.”

He digs his fingers into Xiao Zhan’s hair, pulling him into another kiss. This one is more feverish; Xiao Zhan’s fingers dent the soft flesh of his thighs and his tongue invades Yibo’s mouth. It makes him groan, pulling at Xiao Zhan’s shirt, too eager to move on.

Xiao Zhan fits his knee between Yibo’s thighs, grabbing his wrists and pulling them off to the side. “More than your husband?”

He’s careful in the way he asks, his gaze searching. Yibo can recognize the game he’s offering— the ring, the jokes about Yixing. He’s giving Yibo the chance to say no if he wants to.

Yibo nods his head, rocking his hips down against Xiao Zhan’s knee. “Yes.” Xiao Zhan’s mouth follows the tendons of his neck, teeth dragging against the sensitive skin. 

Yibo manages to shove his shirt off, expensive fabric crumpling to the floor in a heap. Xiao Zhan pulls him away from the wall and the two of them go stumbling in the direction of the bed. He lands under Xiao Zhan, hands cupping his face, kissing until the both of them run out of breath. Xiao Zhan’s hand is between his thighs, palm working rough friction over his crotch. Yibo squeezes his eyes shut, fingers twisting in the bleach white sheets of the hotel bed.

He’s still fully clothed, somehow, and Xiao Zhan hasn’t made any effort to help him undress. Yibo cracks his eyes open, rolling his hips up into Xiao Zhan’s palm. When he’s focused on Xiao Zhan’s face again, he lays his fingers against his lower lip, staring up at him.

“I’m so lonely, Zhan-ge,” he says, chest still heaving for air. Xiao Zhan blinks down at him, lips parted, gaze dark and sparkling. “You’re going to help, right?” He pulls at Xiao Zhan’s shoulder, body arching up into his. “You’re gonna fuck me better than he can, right?”

He hardly thinks about the words rattling out of his mouth; anything that gets Xiao Zhan to take his pants off is good enough. Xiao Zhan leans his forehead against Yibo’s chest and groans, pulling his shirt free of his slacks.

“Jesus, Yibo,” he says, his fingers defter with the buttons than Yibo’s. His skin is so flushed and warm that even with his shirt open he feels no better, nails dragging down Xiao Zhan’s bare shoulders.

Xiao Zhan fishes one hand off the side of the bed, grabbing a bottle that he must have hidden away in one of the drawers earlier. He drops it on the sheets and promptly forgets about it in favor of kissing Yibo’s chest, teeth worrying one of his nipples. The touch makes Yibo squirm against the bed, kicking one leg out and hissing between his teeth.

No matter what Yibo does, Xiao Zhan always likes to take his time. He kisses Yibo’s navel, tongues the line of his hips before peeling his slacks open with careful fingers. He pulls them down past Yibo’s knees, letting Yibo kick them the rest of the way off before pushing his thighs apart.

It doesn’t occur to Yibo until now exactly how Xiao Zhan is going to find him— still stretched from earlier, skin shiny with the remnants of lube. The thought is like a punch in the gut and he paws at Xiao Zhan once more, knees wrapping around his legs.

“You don’t— you don’t have to open me up.” Yibo breathes each word against Xiao Zhan’s collarbone, nipping the thin skin and then licking the red marks he’s left. He looks up at Xiao Zhan’s face, hoping he has enough trust in Yibo to see through what he’s saying. “Since before dinner I…”

He trails off, leaving the rest to suggestion. Xiao Zhan shivers all over, looping his long fingers in Yibo’s hair and tugging— just enough to make it sting, to pull Yibo’s head back and expose his throat.

“Not satisfied, baby?” Xiao Zhan asks. When Yibo shakes his head, as much as he’s able, Xiao Zhan kisses him again. Yibo bites at his lower lip until he groans.

“No, no, no,” he says, lifting his hips as Xiao Zhan drags his underwear down his slender thighs. He slides a tentative hand between Yibo’s legs, pressing the dry pad of one finger against his hole. There’s still lube between his thighs, enough that the intrusion of Xiao Zhan’s finger is rough in the right way, making Yibo’s thighs tense and his toes curl.

Xiao Zhan’s breath flutters at the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, tentative and thrilled all the same. “Is one not enough for you, Yibo?”

Yibo makes a sound, fractured and desperately wanting. It’s hard to move his head with Xiao Zhan’s hand in his hair but Yibo still manages to shake his head. “Not enough.” He repeats, hands sliding around Xiao Zhan’s waist, up his bare back. “I need it from you too, Zhan-ge, please.”

There’s no hiding how badly he wants it. Xiao Zhan withdraws his finger but dashes Yibo’s meager hope by covering his fingers in a thick layer of lube. He returns his hand between Yibo’s legs, two cold, slick fingers pushing inside him. Xiao Zhan’s grasp in his hair relaxes, fingers soothing the prickle in his scalp. Yibo turns his head to the side and attacks the side of Xiao Zhan’s jaw with wet, biting kisses.

He should be more careful about the marks he leaves. Xiao Zhan’s stylists are bound to be annoyed for days. But when Yibo’s teeth graze over his thudding pulse, Xiao Zhan hisses and hooks his fingers forward, pressing into Yibo’s prostate. Yibo bites him until he bruises, groaning into his skin. He doesn’t feel bad about either.

There is lube on his thighs, rolling in thin rivulets over the pale skin. In the unfamiliar darkness of Xiao Zhan’s hotel room, it’s impossible to see. Yibo is left with the lewd sound of Xiao Zhan’s fingers sinking in and out of him and the illicit implication the two of them are playing with. Yibo puts his hand on the side of Xiao Zhan’s face and Xiao Zhan turns his head to kiss the tips of his fingers. He must be able to feel the unfamiliar imprint of the ring on Yibo’s finger on the edge of his jaw.

Xiao Zhan pulls his fingers out before Yibo loses his mind entirely. His hands frame Yibo’s thighs, denting the lean muscle, pushing his legs apart until the exposed feeling makes Yibo’s breath hitch. He drags his fingers over Xiao Zhan’s lips, pushing his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. He takes the hint, using the excess lube on his fingers to slick over his cock.

Usually, Xiao Zhan fucks him like he wants to savor the experience. He confessed to Yibo once before, drunk and on the other side of the country, that his favorite thing was to make Yibo _laugh_ in bed. He takes his time— hardly takes his hands off of Yibo.

Stretched and slick as he is, it’s still a surprise to Yibo how easily he takes Xiao Zhan’s cock when his hips snap forward. When he slides home, Yibo could nearly scream in delight. Xiao Zhan is by no means small; Yibo feels triumphant grinding their hips together. He sinks his nails in Xiao Zhan’s shoulders, leaving thin red welts behind, arching his hips up as much as he can with Xiao Zhan’s tight grip on his thighs. Xiao Zhan licks the pad of his fingers before sliding Yibo’s ring finger past his lips, biting at the tip of it.

Pinned down like this, Yibo can’t roll his hips and steal control the way he typically likes to. He’s trapped taking Xiao Zhan at the pace he sets, long, full strokes that make Yibo feel like all the air has been punched out of his lungs. Yibo manages to dig his heels into Xiao Zhan’s back, encouraging Xiao Zhan to continue fucking into him, far harder than either of them are accustomed to. Sweat drips down the side of Xiao Zhan’s neck and Yibo makes a point of licking it off.

Xiao Zhan releases his thigh to grab his wrist. He bites Yibo’s knuckle, rolling their hips together until Yibo groans. He catches the silver ring in his teeth, pulling it off of Yibo’s long finger.

Yibo is almost sad to see it go. It’s a token from Xiao Zhan, after all, not some fictional husband. Xiao Zhan has never given him a ring. He kisses Yibo’s palm, mouthing the inside of his wrist. Yibo manages to work his free hand between their bodies, wrapping it around his cock. There’s a mess of precome on his stomach that at least rivals the mess between his thighs and the long delay has tuned the tip of his cock an angry, flushed red. Xiao Zhan shakes his head, grabbing Yibo’s thighs again and rocking him forward, so Yibo is bent nearly in half. He bats Yibo’s hand away from his cock, replacing it.

“Not yet,” he says with a smile, deceptively sweet. “I told you I was gonna fuck you better than your husband, baby.”

There’s a darkness in his eyes that can’t be covered and Yibo is only more and more intrigued by it. What more would Xiao Zhan do with him, given the chance? Yibo is only half as experienced and it’s hard to guess at what he doesn’t even know.

Xiao Zhan tightens his fingers in a ring at the base of Yibo’s cock, staving off the swollen tide of his orgasm. He snaps his hips against Yibo’s and with his legs spread this way, he can truly feel every inch of Xiao Zhan’s cock driving into him. The dropped ring landed on his chest but rolls forward when Xiao Zhan’s hips drive Yibo further up the bed, landing on the sheets next to his shoulder, lost in the dark.

Every thrust pressures Yibo’s prostate. In spite of Xiao Zhan’s grasp keeping him from the edge, precome slides over his skin and Xiao Zhan’s equally, slicking his fingers and Yibo’s tummy. The need to come almost hurts and Yibo is only half-aware of all the things falling out of his mouth, begging, incoherent.

“I only want you, Zhan-ge.” He tugs at Xiao Zhan’s neck and his voice echoes in the room like a sob. “Just you. Please.”

Xiao Zhan’s fingers loosen around his cock and it doesn’t take a single stroke of his hand to make Yibo come. His vision fizzles into blackness, the whole narrowed down to Xiao Zhan, still pinning him in place on the bed. He keeps up his hard pace through Yibo’s orgasm, stroking his cock with a loose fist, encouraging the thick, pearly streams of come that dirty Yibo’s skin further.

Above him, Xiao Zhan’s breath hitches and his jaw knots. Yibo sighs, pulling him into a messy kiss. “In me,” he says, nipping the corner of Xiao Zhan’s lip. “I’m all yours— I want it.”

Xiao Zhan’s eye’s flutter shut thrusting unevenly into Yibo when he comes, long shivers crawling down the length of his spine. He sighs Yibo’s name, kissing the corner of his mouth, rolling his hips into Yibo’s with each wave of his orgasm, filling him until a thin stream escapes.

He releases Yibo’s thighs, lowering him carefully to the bed. Yibo pulls Xiao Zhan as close as he can, legs still around his waist, greedy for contact.

“Are you okay?” Xiao Zhan asks, smoothing hair away from Yibo’s sweaty forehead. Yibo nods, trying to put his shattered mind back together. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, for sure, but not so sure he wouldn’t mind having Xiao Zhan fuck him at least once more before his next flight. He kisses Yibo’s exposed forehead before pulling out of him. He untangles Yibo’s legs from around his waist and pushes himself up with a groan.

“Stay there,” he says as if Yibo is capable of getting up on his own. He stretches out on the sheets and manages to find the ring once again, trapped under his shoulder. He picks it up from the sheets and rolls it in his palm. He rolls to the side enough to turn on one of the lamps, fitting it around his finger again. 

It’s a matter of curiosity— Xiao Zhan’s hands are much smaller than his. The ring shouldn’t fit around Yibo’s finger, but it does. He’s still studying it when Xiao Zhan returns from the bathroom, a damp washcloth dangling from his fingers.

“Um,” he says, his eyes on the ring as well. “Are we still playing?”

“No,” Yibo says, plucking it off his finger and clearing his throat. It should be easy to explain what he’s thinking but something stills his tongue. “Here.” He holds the ring out, giving his head a shake. “It’s yours.”

Xiao Zhan takes it but sets it on the nightstand, running his palm up Yibo’s bare thigh. “You’re a mess,” he says, a smile on his face that makes Yibo feel warm down to the soles of his feet. “Maybe I should put you in the shower instead.”

Yibo puffs his cheeks out, tipping his chin toward the ceiling. He’s not planning on being on his feet for that long for the rest of the night. Xiao Zhan laughs, spreading his legs carefully apart and kissing the cap of Yibo’s knee.

He’s meticulous in cleaning up, or at least in cleaning _Yibo_ up. He washes the inside of Yibo’s thighs first, kissing the clean skin he leaves in his wake. Then his stomach, tickling the sides of Yibo’s ribs until an unwelcome laugh bubbles out of him and he gives up on pouting.

Just as careful as he was with the rest of the job, Xiao Zhan uses his thumbs to stretch Yibo’s already used hole. Yibo can feel the heat of his breath before Xiao Zhan’s tongue touches him but still, the wet contact makes him jolt, biting the inside of his cheek. Yibo’s stomach clenches with the arousal, the awareness that Xiao Zhan is using his mouth to clean his own come out of Yibo. It’s too soon for him to get hard, but he still paws at Xiao Zhan’s hair with one hand, mouth hanging open.

When he’s satisfied with the job he’s done— either cleaning or winding Yibo up again— Xiao Zhan sits up and uses the cloth gently between Yibo’s legs. He tosses it to the side when he’s finished, pressing his lips to the edge of Yibo’s hip.

“I wish it was for real,” Yibo says, grabbing the ring and rolling it in his hand again. Xiao Zhan, nosing at the soft skin of his stomach, laughs.

“Getting married to Yixing? Me too.”

“No,” Yibo says. His other hand is still in Xiao Zhan’s hair, toying with his dark curls. He goes quiet for a long moment, trying to think of how to make words say exactly what he wants Xiao Zhan to understand.

“I meant it,” he says, finally, holding the ring out towards Xiao Zhan. “I only want you.”

Xiao Zhan looks between the ring and Yibo’s face, his mouth falling open in a surprised _o._

“Wang Yibo,” he says, his eyebrows rising under his bangs. “Are you proposing to me?”

In spite of his light tone, there’s a flush on Xiao Zhan’s face. Yibo bites the inside of his cheek, teeth finding a familiar patch of scar tissue. There are certain things they can’t be to one another, at least in public. It doesn’t matter so much to Yibo, anyway. Whatever he does get with Xiao Zhan is so much better than nothing.

“Yes.” His expression stays serious. “Please stay with me forever, Zhan-ge.”

He expects to see a lot of emotions cross Xiao Zhan’s face at once— surprise, conflict, joy. If he wanted time to think about it, Yibo could understand that. Yibo wants to take as much as he is offering.

But Xiao Zhan only laughs, kissing Yibo’s palm, then his lips. “That’s my ring,” he says, his mouth against Yibo’s.

Yibo laughs too, pressing his forehead into Xiao Zhan’s. “I’ll buy you one.” He smooths his hands down Xiao Zhan’s back, delights in the steady drumbeat of his heart. “I’ll buy you one for every day of the week if you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> the moon's full again. 
> 
> thanks to len for beta-ing <3
> 
> twt: @knightofswords_ |@knightspur_ao3


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